Ascension
by Rhagar
Summary: It's a cold winter night and two of the greatest individuals from the Dragon Age clash for the first time amidst blood and fire. They are sides of the same coin, their fates linked together in a spiral of destruction. Many tales will be told about them, but take heed, however, for greatness doesn't necessarily mean goodness... In Your Heart Shall Burn AU.


Hey guys, I bring to you an AU one-shot take on In Your Heart Shall Burn, with a Corypheus that actually has a plan and isn't bent on achieving godhood to be the Supreme Overlord of All... or maybe he's just delusional, who knows? But yeah, I guess you could call this a tribute to what he could have been. **That said, though this is an AU, Corypheus isn't a completely diferent from his canon portrayal, but rather an expansion on it. Therefore, most of his dialogue is expanded upon, not changed.**

Also the literary style at the beginning is... particular to say the least, but I wanted to give it a try.

There are translations at the bottom, as well as another note.

Hope you like it!

* * *

 **Ascension**

It's a cold winter night and the devil's smile peeks trough plans built on bottomless lies. It's followed by the silence of ecstasy, the frantic adoration of those who knows their own self to be part of something bigger, the fanatism of the recent convert. From the heights, he looks attentively, expectant.

They are his herd and he, their shepherd. They are lost, invoking during all their lives chants and liturgies turned into something repetitive and mundane, hollowly mechanical and devoid of any true feeling. The inertia of a dead body is the only thing that has kept them on their feet for so long after the initial fervor from so long ago disappeared. He has reached them, has given them a new purpose, a real one. He's now the shepherd, a terrible one in his magnificence, moving the pieces of a chessboard long abandoned by those whose existence can't be understood by children born from dust.

To him the skies have opened again, surrendered the earth. He walks again by old paths and yet he can hardly recognize them. They are the minority, however. Most of them, he doesn't even realize they've changed too much to even recognize them.

The world has changed.

There are new threats in this world that once revered and feared him in equal parts. _Qunari_ , they call themselves. They impose their social and spiritual rigidity by sword and science, unflinching and unbending in their obsession to put order in the world, to make it submit to their known ways. A part of his mind, morbid as it is, can't help but acknowledge the cold and detached efficiency of their system. Of course, it's not enough, but it never is; there are minuscule cracks and the society they're so proud of isn't as perfect as they want to believe. That doesn't stop them from having barged into Thedas with blood and steel. Even now, they're still in conflict with the land that birthed him.

He has been left behind, but the world has changed, for it waits for none.

It is now withered and worn out, soured, tired and done and yet, the mold hasn't changed. Oceans follow their paths still, unchanging, forests do yet grow… the people come and go, but the silence is still there, so absent it screams like a dying cacophony, unmoved by the hoarse begging for an answer that will never come. The last mockery.

He will end this demented cycle, this tyranny. He will give back to this world a reason for existing. It must be him, for he alone sees and understands what must be done. It is only he, with horror born from comprehension, who sees the corrupting indifference, the slothful apathy that has gripped his country with dead fingers. There is nothing in the skies, all lies. The world keeps spinning, it looks but doesn't see… but this time, a fire burns bright inside him. It's a powerful fire, burning within the abominable carcass that has become his body, even though in the darkest corner of his twisted mind hides the vague fear that clings to him. Is it determination what burns inside him, or is it simply the madness of someone who knows themselves to be lucid and the world, mad? Mad, all mad. Or is he the one mad? It's not easy to say, anymore.

No! He shan't be their toy anymore, a mere pastime fated to be forgotten in favor of the week's novelty!

There's no place for weakness, faltering is for those too weak to stand up. The only way is to go on and never look back. Doubts have no place in divine existence. He will stand up for all and correct this madness.

It's a cold winter night and the demented's grin blurs into a horrid grimace. Lyrium stretches the skin; it hurts for only a second before the pain deadens. He forms a fist from a grotesquely huge hand and turns around to look at his commanders.

He avoids his gaze, but there's no doubt in him. Good, his conviction will be put to good use. She, however, isn't so easily cowed, but it's difficult what's she thinking with that face that is neutrality itself. She stares back, neither fear nor veneration on her face and doesn't react in any visible way when emaciated lips twist into a perturbing mockery of a little smile. He prefers her even with the small sliver of contempt he carries due to her previous status, a stain that will never disappear. However, Calpernia is still useful and those who serve others will too have their place once he ascends, so he says nothing.

"Are our forces ready, commander?" he finally asks. His voice is deep, more than it used to be. Surprisingly, it's perfect to imbue a feeling or reverence in those who listen to him. Perfect to command them and raise above the dirt the world has accumulated.

"Yes. They're ready to move out as soon as the order is given," Samson swiftly answers. Samson, commander of the Red Templars. They bear the name with pride, knowing themselves to be the personal guard of their leader, their future god, one who will know of their existence, unlike the lie their predecessors blindly followed for so long.

Seeing their new leader's nod of approval, Samson turns without another word to a subordinate of his to give the implicit order. The Commander's discomfort is tangible around him. It's not easy to gain someone's trust with his aspect, he knows, but he still retains the old charisma and his soldiers have seen something in him worth fighting for. He's determined to not fail them, even if he only needs loyalty from the Commander himself.

His new flock soon moves onwards; it's a well oiled machine and knows they will not fail him. Such is the fervor instilled into them. The battle has started and it's one battle they carefully crafted to win.

The templars have moved a piece, but there are still others to use in the chessboard. It's time for her to enter the fray, he decides thoughtfully.

"Calpernia." The mage's attention goes from the battle to him in an instant. "While the templars draw the attention of that insolent upstart's forces, gather a few of your men. You already know what to do."

The mage frowns, most likely slighted by the way she's been given green light for her operation. It makes her feel like a secondary actor in this masquerade they're dancing to the pace of the invisible director. He just contains his amusement, knowing her task is crucial and without another word crossed between them, Calpernia stalks off, shoulders tense.

He turns around and observes the lights below. Haven is the town's name, the final resting place of the now disappeared most infamous ashes; just another lie, one of many. The false pretender is down there, planning, plotting. The naïve fool doesn't even understand the true nature of that which she plays with, using the key of heavens to close and lock, instead of _opening._ He knows it's all an act, though, a cunning scheme and part of a grander plot to ascend to the divine throne. It's impossible not to applaud the cunningness in the plan, the necessary sheer charisma to manipulate them all without even them knowing. In another time and with different circumstances, he would have offered her a place at his right… But he has never suffered well any type of competition, so her eradication is a required necessity. None must interfere with the ascension.

They do not take long to discover their presence; the scramble from one place to another, confused, acting like stunned ants incapable of understanding the fact that the end has come. Maybe the reveal has come sooner than he'd have expected or preferred, but that does little to affect the inevitability of the attack.

Their gazes finally meet and he searches carefully in the sea green eyes of his competitor. There's no recognition in them, just confused determination. Good, that will only sweeten his final victory. He gives her a smile, fully knowing that what he calls a smile is a horrifying grimace on his new face. It's an unspoken challenge and he knows that before the night ends, the two will face each other for the first time.

Horns echo throughout the valley, invoking the eternal spirit of war. Between the skies and the earth, he watches and judges.

It's a cold winter night, and the rightful god of Thedas has come to reclaim what belongs to him.

 **xxOOOxx**

The laughing and merry dancing quickly left way to confusion and unease. Not for nothing, because a forest of swords rose against them, ready to reap the lives of everyone it came across. Calpernia hid in the shadows, carefully observing her enemies. Two of her mages were behind her, their loyalty is unquestionable. They had their orders, they were clear and concise and they wouldn't be less.

The blonde woman watched one of their target, analyzing with keen eyes every possible course of action.

"We should create a distraction, divide them and bring him to us," suggested one of her mages in hushed whispers. His fingers were nervously drumming on his staff's shat, belying the slight nervousness from the otherwise impassible mage.

"It's as good as any other idea in our situation," the other agreed..

Calpernia simply adopted a pensive look as she considered the proposal before agreeing. "Very well. Lucius, Darius, you two will create a distraction. Wait for them to deal with most of the Red Templars before separating them. I will take care of the objective and those still around," the mage whispered, earning agreeing nods from her companions.

The three observed in silence as the battle raged on, the frantic and corrupt waves of Red Templars crashing with violence against any defense the Inquisition managed to assemble in such short notice.

"Hey, isn't that…?"

"The one they call Herald of Andraste, yes," Calpernia confirmed with a hushed whisper, interest shining in her eyes.

"Huh, didn't know she was an elf…" Lucius mused under his breath.

"That bothers you?" There was genuine curiosity in Darius' question and Calpernia couldn't deny she was actually interested in Lucius' answer.

"I wouldn't even know what to say. I didn't expect it; I'd have never thought these hypocrite southern barbarians would have it in them to name an elf Herald of Andraste."

While her companions bonded over how stupid hypocrite Southern Thedas's society is, Calpernia analyzed the Herald with keen eyes. She was an elf, a Dalish, judging by the overly intricate patterns of the vallaslin on her face. Corypheus' spies have yet again struck true, she mused for a moment before focusing again. Not only that, though, she was also a mage. A notably proficient mage, if what they were seeing was any indicator of her abilities. Calpernia's lips curved into a slight smile. The sweet irony was impossible to ignore for the Tevinter mages: a mage elf, the conjunction of everything deserving of contempt to the Southern Chantry, leading an organization heavily linked to this same Chantry due to its strong historical and ideological ties.

But they hadn't come here to relish such irony.

"Enough with the chatter, the Herald is moving away. Prepare yourselves."

They both immediately abandoned their banal discussion to keep alert and she couldn't help but feel proud of them.

With the Herald out of the picture, everything turned out to be easy, even ridiculously so. The Archdemon was something they definitely hadn't expected, not even in their wildest nightmares and with the Inquisition caught off guard, no one would look for outright infiltration with such an obvious show of power. Until then, Corypheus' plan had gone without a hitch. Finally seeing the perfect opportunity, Calpernia signaled her mages, who didn't waste time in creating a distraction at an appropriately nearby position from their objective.

Their target followed his men in the rearguard, concerned about them just as their reports indicated, and it was easy to catch him from behind, distracted as he was. After all, magic was a tool with many uses if one knows how to discover and apply them. With a feeling of satisfaction from work well done, Calpernia regrouped with her companions minutes later. However, Lucius was visibly panting and he's holding his side, his hand red with blood.

"What happened?" she asked visibly worried as she heals him as best as she can do.

"My mistake, Calpernia. I got distracted for a moment and one of them managed to stab me. I sent him to the Void, at least," he murmured with a dark look before flinching in pain.

"I see… very well, then, pick him up and deliver him to Corypheus. You've earned yourself a good rest, Lucius, use it well."

The man nodded slowly. He was smart enough to know when to retreat and this was one such occasion. Levitating the body under a thick layer of ice, Lucius hid from view with magic.

"Good luck on the mission," his disembodied voice wished them with a pant before going to Corypheus. The sound of his boots in the snow disappeared seconds later, muffled by the mage.

The remaining Tevinter mages silently stood there for a few seconds before Calpernia turned to Darius.

"Let's go, we still have a job to finish."

 **xxOOOxx**

"Move. Now!"

The Herald's urgent cry arrived just in time to save the lives of her companions, but they didn't take into account the barrels of inflammable substance put near the trebuchet, which sent them flying through the air when they exploded.

Stunned by the explosion, the Herald grunted in pain, getting up on shaky knees as she coughed, smoke clogging her throat. However, the imposing figure looming menacingly in front of her was more important in the current situation than a bit of pain in the torso and some coughing. His form was… hideous, a tower made entirely of slightly wrong proportions, enough to transmit a foreboding feeling of unease. His face was the worst of all, twisted into a parody of what a face was supposed to be, odd protrusion of something she could only assume to be red lyrium sticking out from the stretched skin. Varric hadn't minced his words when he talked about it, warning her that it was best to avoid the vile stuff altogether if one wanted to have an acceptable life expectancy. The horrors it had caused on Kirkwall spoke by themselves.

The Archdemon let out a sudden roar, startling the Herald as she turned around with a jump to confront the tainted dragon, even if she knew it was hopeless. The fear she felt, though well hidden, was easy to see.

However, the walking nightmare raised his awkwardly long arms as they lit up with red light. "Enough!" His voice alone thundered, carrying a command that wasn't to be denied, which the dragon knew very well, as it dipped her head in a clear show of submission, like a pet scolded by its master. Turning to look at the elf, he fixated his penetrating gaze on the Herald before spoking. "Pretender, you play with forces you don't understand. Such a thing is over."

"Who are you? _What_ are you?!" the Herald demanded to know with narrowed eyes. He simply looked at her with cold eyes.

"I am the forsaken servant, the one who in his devotion trod sacred places on the orders of others to serve them. You ask who am I? What I once was is beyond you, but I am the Elder One, survivor of the Ages. Know me, know what you have pretended to be; know the will that is Corypheus!"

"Corypheus…" she repeated under her breath. Knowing who he was wasn't going to help her resolve the situation at hand and without a proper context, even that was useless. "What do you want, then?! What purpose does this attack serve?!"

"Because you are a thief, an unruly miscreant that needs to be brought to heel. Because despite everything, you are my enemy, my rival. Don't think I don't know what you're doing, pretender. You've won the trust of those who follow you, desperate, ignorant fools in need of a charismatic figure of divine origin to guide them through darkness. Blind of mind and sight, they can't see what I can, the ambition to break the chains, to ascend to the skies. But I will not suffer rivals, not even unknowing ones."

"And you think I'll let you continue your plans? I will stop you, you sick aberration!" the Herald grounded with a harsh growl. Despite her confusion at his words, there was no denying he was a raving lunatic.

"Mortals will always rebels against inevitability, believing yourselves above forces beyond your abilities. The mere fact of proclaiming vengeance against a faceless enemy is such an example, mere hollow words from someone caught in destiny's flow," Corypheus sneered as he pulled out an odd black orb with intricate decorations. "I have come here only to take back what is mine. The process of removing the Anchor starts now," the strange being declared ominously as the orb flared with blood red light. It looked just like the aura the red lyrium irradiated and Mihrana knew that whatever that orb was, it wasn't something healthy to be around.

The mark on her hand, the _Anchor_ as he had called it, reacted immediately, shining brightly with the vivid emerald green color she had come to associate subconsciously with the Fade in her years of tutelage as First under Keeper Deshanna. Her left arm started to shake violently as an unpleasant tingle filled her.

"It's your fault, _Herald,_ " Corypheus accused, the contemptuously mocking tone in his tone making clear his thoughts on the title. "You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you twisted its purpose." The sickening being made a vague gesture, instensifying the mark's brightness. This time, Mihrana gritted her teeth, trying with all her being to avoid crying out in pain. "I ignore how you survived, but that which marks you as special, what you gained the veneration of ignorant peasants with, I created it. The Anchor you flail without care or control against the rifts, I crafted it to assault the very heavens."

Immeasurable pain spreading through her from the Anchor made her double in pain, falling to her knees. The scream that escaped her throat was a horrible sound, as the green of the magical mark blended with the blood red aura that had appeared suddenly around her hand. A chilling pulse throbbed in her hand, crawling up her arm and deadening it.

"And you use _my_ Anchor to undo _my_ work. Such arrogance is unacceptable." Corypheus boomed with a grave voice.

The Herald cried out in pain, twitching. "All this chaos… just for the Anchor?! I don't even know what this damn thing does!"she rasped.

"Of course you don't, it was never meant for you. The Anchor was always the way to bring certainty in a world lacking such a thing. This chaos you so quickly reject will strengthen me. It's simply a means to an end, ensuring the end of our ignored pleas at the feet of non-existent gods. But you… awaiting the chance to get rid of all competition and force your own way into the Citadel in the skies! You would doom the entire world with your petty desire for godhood, that _can't_ be allowed."

"You think _I_ will go into the root of all evil at the center of the Fade because I want to become a god? Creators give me strength…" Mihrana let out a borderline hysterical laugh. "You're fucking crazy, completely mad!"

Corypheus approached her with gigantic steps and grabbing her by the arm, raised Mihrana until they were face to face. Between the throes of pain, Mihrana could finally appreciate jut how huge he was: even with an elf's shorter height in comparison to an human, Mihrana was clearly aware that she was several feet above the ground. That said, there were other things to worry about, namely, the look of fury Corypheus was giving her.

"Mad, you say? I once crossed the Fade in the name of another to serve the Old Gods _in person._ They were all lies, a mockery on top of another in a crude cult dedicated to apathetic beings. I only found chaos and corruption there, dead whispers from eons ago. You call me mad, but is it madness desiring to offer this corrupted world the god it deserves, the god it needs? I breached the Citadel along with those who were of similar interests and saw personally the throne of divinity amidst festering corruption. _I_ alone have gathered the will to return from the shadows under my own name, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world! Beg that I succeed - for I have seen the seat of the Maker and it was empty!"

Corypheus threw the Herald with violence, slamming her against the trebuchet, eliciting a pained grunt from her bruised lips.

"Bluster all you want, your attempts at trickery are pitiful. I can _see_ you, worm; yes, you the one inside. The Anchor is permanent. You've spoiled it with your inane stumbling, playing with things you don't understand," Corypheus muttered with a scowl. There was anger in his eyes, but it cooled almost as soon as it appeared. "But so be it, I will find other means to open the way to the skies. I will ascend to the heavens to sit upon the forgotten throne, to give Thedas the god it needs, one it truly listens. I will be that god, and I will not ignore humanity, like we've been all this time in silence, but you… I will not suffer the existence of a rival interfering with my plans. Even less one so false as you are," he stated, but he narrowed his eyes when he heard her chortling in laughter, holding her side. She raised her head, and she was smiling in amusement, a small dribble of blood trailing down from her mouth to the chin as her shoulders shook from the laughing.

"Is this what it all comes down to; playing to be a god and decide the fate of everyone in Thedas?! A god is impartial, above mortal understanding. A god does because his will is _doing…_ but you're not even that. You reject the humans' Maker because you think it never existed, and yet all I've seen so far is someone who's trying to convince himself he _can_ be a god, not that he _is_ one. A god is everything; a god doesn't need to prove himself or his existence for his creations. Your ignorance is clear, but I would expect nothing else from a twisted spawn like you," she spat with hatred.

If looks could kill, Mihrana was sure she'd be already six feet under.

"You are a miserable insect, scrambling around desperately in your tiny comprehension of the world. Your words are foolish, _Herald_ , you could never understand what you never saw with your own eyes. I see this world and I can't ignore the corruption spreading through it. I decided enough was enough and readied myself to take the place that was filled only in our heads. Voluntary abandonment was always preferable to the idea of simple non-existence. What purpose would we have otherwise? We were wrong in our hubris, but I will right this world. I will ascend to higher heights because of my own former nature as mortal, proving that betterment is possible. You're nothing but an obstacle in my path to crush. You _must_ die."

Mihrana laughed again, clutching firmly a mere sword since she had lost her staff. Far away, above Corypheus' shoulder, the First of clan Lavellan could see a red ball of fire slowly rising over the tree tops, signaling the evacuating of everyone from Haven. _'I must make.'_

"Funny you talk about hubris, considering it's the only thing coming out of your mouth whenever you talk," she mocked, before her gaze hardened. "You expect us to surrender and kneel while you play at being god as you see fit. Well, we're not doing that, you fuckface! We will grow stronger beyond what we were; we will fight you in every city, in every nation, all together against your stupid god-wannabe ass! We will rise with the force of a tidal wave and we will crush you like the overgrown bug you are! _Fen'harel ma halan, ir sa Elvhen, ar tu na'din!_ " Mihrana spat, watching with great satisfaction as Corypheus' face contorted with pure, unadulterated rage.

To her surprise, he replied in kind. " _Dirthara'ma, seth'lin! Mala arla dar alas!_ _Halam sahlin. Ar tel'suledin ir harelen!_ " His rough voice distorted the ancient elven language, usually a fluid and pleasant sound to the ears. Seeing her shocked surprise, he sneered. "Such arrogance you show, those who call yourselves dalish, bearing proudly brands of slavery on your faces in your sweet ignorance. Did you think I wouldn't recognize ancient Elvhen? I'd even wager I can speak more fluently than you, _era'harel_ ; not all of us have forgotten the old lore, _tel_ ' _taren len_. You're just an imitation, a shadow; you call me an ignorant, but you don't even know the real meaning of your coming of age marks," Corypheus mocked with a chilling laugh, taking great pleasure in the turbulence of emotions going through the Herald in that moment.

"You say I'm nothing, but you're less than that. You're _rattus,_ presenting a farce ofa shadow that only lives in the past glory of bygone eras. I can see through it, but I tire of this meaningless charade, let us finish this at once. Do you believe yourself capable of facing me, _Herald_? I have the experience from centuries on my side, I won't lose."

"That's what _you_ think. Your arrogance makes you rash. You will fall!"

"Arrogance? Only those who fight without success against the chains the world imposes on them call certainty arrogance. I am superior, witness your impotence and despair," Corypheus warned with a sweeping gesture.

As if answering, the Archdemon moved aside, allowing two mages to pass. They were obviously enemies, their stylish Tevinter robes billowing with the cold wind. One of them, an imposing blonde woman, was clearly the leader as the other walked a step behind her at her right. However, that wasn't what drew Mihrana's attention, but the prisoners they carried.

"Cullen! Josephine!"

The two looked horrible, a clear sign they'd been brutally beaten. The sharp contrast between Josephine's colorful clothes and the fresh blood staining them shook the elf, just as the obvious signs of punching on her face did. The commander had similar wounds, but he bore them stoically. The two mages made them kneel in front of Corypheus, in front of her. Josephine was crying. Cullen hadn't stopped struggling to free himself, but he received a punch to the gut from the male mage. It was enough warning to know that next time, it wouldn't be a punch, but magic.

"Amidst the chaos, it was child's play to isolate and capture the so vaunted leaders of this Inquisition. The commander of your paltry forces, the diplomat of your meaningless contacts… Behead an organization and more than half the times, it will fall by its own weight. A common tactic, one to be expected in similar conflicts. The fact that you didn't have a contingency plan for such attempt shows to what point you're out of your element. You should consider yourself lucky we didn't find your spy master, but she doesn't seem to be so incompetent."

"If you hurt them, nothing will save you from me, monster."

"You're in no position to make threats, _Herald_. You're an insolent upstart, a twisted mockery of my own purpose, the other side of the coin. I will not allow you to destroy whatever shred of hope this world has in your constant fumbling, pretender," Corypheus accused as he grabbed Cullen. Mihrana's body tensed.

"Herald, don't!"

" _Silence, worm,_ " Corypheus ordered as he sent a clawed hand through his chest. Mihrana froze, watching as his grotesquely large hand cradled the commander's torn heart. The blond man looked down in shock at his own heart before gurgling the most disturbing sound Mihrana had ever heard in her short life. The man fell limp second later, twitching minutely for a few moments before stilling forever. Josephine shrieked as Corypheus' hand crushed without remorse the torn heart with a squelching sound. Bile rose through Mihrana's throat as she shook in the middle of violent heaves.

"Your deaths are the foundations on which I will build a new world, a better one in which we will be no longer bound to the will of invisible gods."

Earning a nod from her leader, the blonde mage lifted her staff with an inexpressive look. Whatever thoughts she had on this were hidden, locked away from the world. The sharp spear attached to the end gleamed briefly with the moonlight before falling. The shrieks cut off abruptly.

Under the moonlight, two reaped lives over the sound of a limp body hitting the floor. Red snow preceded the raw snarl of rage. Something snapped inside her, a resounding crack coming from her head as it reverberated in her head, echoing like the tolling of a thousand bells. Unbearable pain ripped through her, as the world turned green wherever she looked. She couldn't see, but could hear the shocked, frantic curses. A fire ignited in her and rage fueled the kick that declared open war, one in which there will only be one survivor. The sound of pulleys at work and the air swooshing were real things, something she held onto with all her being as the avalanche rushed to bury them.

 _Broken and done. Bury everything, bury it all._

Her body moved, the snow crunching under her boots before leaping. She jumped without seeing, falling without looking.

 _Destroyed and torn._ _Forsaken once, forsake it all._

Darkness.

 **xxOOOxx**

The first thing she noticed was the shouting. Then the warmth of her body and only then did the pain arrive. With a groan she opened her eyes and Mother Giselle quickly approached her side, concern marring her face.

"Herald, you must rest, you're very weak from going through that snowstorm."

Mihrana grunted. "I wouldn't even if I could, which I don't with all this shouting. What's happened? Where are we?"

"We survived the attack and we have surprisingly few deaths. You saved many lives today, Herald," she told her softly, but the elf shook her head as she sat up on the bed.

"Not all of them, though."

Giselle looked at her for a moment, eyes filled with sympathetic understanding, before continuing. "We're somewhere in the Frostback mountains, but we don't know where exactly. Which may be the reason they haven't found us yet, but it has allowed others to fall into infighting," she explained, looking as Leliana, Cassandra, Varric, Fiona and several others argued heatedly about their next step. "Furthermore, both the Commander and Lady Montilyet are missing. Would you perhaps know-?"

Mihrana abruptly cut her off. "They're dead. Corypheus killed them in front of me."

"… I see. We feared this might be the case, but we hoped… We can only pray they are at the Maker's side, now." Mihrana snorted, but didn't say anything. "I assume this Corypheus is the one who started all of this?"

"Yes, he's… I'm not exactly sure what he is now, but I think he was one of the ancient magisters who breached the Fade. The first darkspawn."

An oppressive, uncomfortable silence filled the tent. "Herald, are you sure of that? The implications are…"

"I know perfectly well what this implies, but it's true. He looked like a fiend; red lyrium grew from his body and he looked tainted. Yet he was intelligent, he rambled, he spoke of how he and others sought to serve their gods and assaulted the heavens, entering the Golden City. He spoke of how he found nothing but decay and corruption. Of how there was no Maker."

"He might believe his words to be true, but that doesn't mean they _are_ true. And even if they were, it just might mean they corrupted the seat of the Maker the very moment they entered it, corrupting it from the beginning. However, if even a shred of what he claimed is true, all the more reason Andraste would chose someone to rise against him," Giselle mused, staring into the night.

However, Mihrana openly scoffed as she got up. "All of this happened because of fanatics and arguments about the next world, Mother Giselle. This is only the latest chapter in a world where a religious organization can call an armed march in the name of an uncaring god. It's time we start believing in this one for a chance."

Many saw her when she left the tent and they all started to whisper among themselves, partly in reverence for what they thought to be a literal return from the dead. However, they all had received a terrible blow at Haven and it showed. Everywhere she looked, there were only desperate faces. They snapped at each other and their cohesion was tenuous at best in those moments. They were people who had given up.

She went up to the group arguing and Cassandra turned to face her, a look of relief appearing on her visage. "Herald, you're alive! We thought you lost to us until you stumbled through the canyon half dead from frostbite. What happened?"

"Corypheus happened. He's a raving lunatic, but as far as I can tell, he's one of the ancient magisters. One of the first darkspawn."

Just like with Giselle, a dead silence filled their little circle until Varric broke it. He looked terrified. "Well, shit."

Leliana spoke up. "What about Josephine, Herald? She and the Commander are missing. Are they…" The redhead hesitated, reluctant to voice what they all had considered.

"Yes, they… they're dead. Corypheus killed them as a way to mock me," the elf confirmed with a quiet voice. Leliana nodded without saying anything, but she adopted an emotionless expression. Mihrana could recall Josephine commenting off-handedly that the redhead and she were friends since several years ago.

"Damn that bastard!"

"Do we know what he wants?" An elf under Leliana's orders asked. If Mihrana remembered correctly, her name was Charter. She wasn't taking her eyes from Leliana.

"His objective, from what I could understand, is to breach the Black City again and achieve godhood. He has corrupted the Templars with red lyrium to become his personal army as we have already seen."

"He plans to do _what_ , exactly?! That's madness!"

"Exactly what I thought, but thing is… we all have seen the Breach, it's not hard to imagine he could actually do it if I hadn't taken the Anchor at the Conclave. He said he would find other ways to physically breach the Fade. We must work under the assumption he can, and will, find those other means."

"What will we do now, then? Even would-be gods can be brought down, but we'll need a proper strategy. However, we won't be able to do anything, the morale of the Inquisition is too low," Fiona explained with a frown.

Vivienne chuckled, but it was a vapid sound. "Well, maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're not exactly one to inspire trust, my dear," she said with mocking drawl, perfected through countless politicking.

The former Grand Enchanter glared at her fellow mage. "The same could be applied to you, _Vivienne_. I have never denied the fact that I desire for independence from the Chantry, but you're with the Inquisition solely because you expect to make a profit of political power from it. Even worse, you are an unofficial Loyalist, a Chantry apologist just because you had it easy at the Montsimmard Circle!"

"Careful, dear, don't get too worked up or you'll grow more wrinkles than you already have."

Glowering, Fiona spat at the ground. "People like you who only think of their own gains in these situations sicken me. You care nothing for who dies or who lives as long as you hoard more and more power."

"That's enough, Fiona, if you really want to throw accusations, you shouldn't have allied yourselves with Tevinter. Look at how it turned out," Cassandra rebuked the elf with clear disapproval, but she only scoffed.

"And what did you expect? Everyone hates mages for the things we can do, it's always the danger we pose. It's always about how we must be contained and if needed be, purged from Thedas like mere cattle, never about how we feel about it. Always seen as monsters, not persons," Fiona spewed with fury. "Allying us with Tevinter was the most stupid thing I've ever done, I won't deny that, but at least we would have lived. If it hadn't been for the Conclave blowing up, we would have returned to us being locked up like animals that need to be hidden away. I will acknowledge that I was wrong, but I will not apologize for it."

"And just like always, you show why you can't be trusted. You only think of yourselves, but not those who felt truly afraid for their families when one single mage killed hundreds with a snap of their fingers at Kirkwall. You never think of those killed by rampaging abominations, but why would you? After all, it's only you, the malcontents in the towers, who the world has mistreated," Vivienne mocked.

Leliana looked like she was about to say something to that, but Mihrana had finally gotten sick of the senseless bickering. "Enough!" She yelled, red with rage and they all fell silent, looking at her with wide eyes.

The elf glanced to the side and spotting a crate, she made a beeline for it before jumping on it. "EVERYONE, LISTEN TO ME!" Her scream had the force to carry even to the farthest in the camp and everyone heard her. A hush fell over their makeshift camp as they all trickled slowly to gather around her. The one they called Herald looked at them with a stern gaze for a few moments. "You all know what happened today! Tonight, the one who opened the Breach, the one who tore apart the sky attacked Haven. His name is Corypheus and I want you all to know that there is a likely chance of him being one of the magisters from Ancient Tevinter that were cast down as the first darkspawn," she explained with graveness. Several among her audience gasped and fearful murmurs filled the silence. "The creature known as Corypheus seeks to enter once again the Black City and become a god, but I say he's a mad lunatic that needs to be put down!"

"But he destroyed Haven, there was nothing we could do to stop him! How can we stop someone like him, Herald? Maker's breath, he has an Archdemon as his pet! How are we going to combat the Blight? We just survived through one a decade ago by ourselves!" That came from one of the soldiers, and though his concerns were valid, it did nothing to lessen the fear the people under her command were feeling. Worse, if anything, it only helped to exacerbate it, Mihrana thought with gritted teeth. Meanwhile, her inner circle stood there, attentive to her words.

"And that is something that should be of concern, but we will gain nothing by drowning in fear! Corypheus attacked Haven to kill me and destroy the Inquisition, to prevent us from stopping him! Don't you see it? He's afraid because he knows we will stop him! He attacked us and yet he failed, because you're all here! You can't kill an idea, and we carry the goals of the Inquisition within us: to stop the chaos in Thedas and find those responsible. Well, we now know the culprit and I assure you all, he will pay for what he did tonight!" she proclaimed. Blood pumped into her veins as she got going.

However, in that moment, a grizzled man with half his head covered in bandages barreled through the crowd. "Words are fucking cheap! I lost my children in the attack and you expect me to act as if nothing had happened, you damned elf? Where were you when you were needed, huh?! I don't know if you're the Herald of Andraste or not, and Maker forgive me, I don't care. I care that my son and daughter died for an elf that wasn't even around to repay the trust they put on her!" he yelled with hot white rage while tears fell from his eyes before spitting on the ground in front of Mihrana.

"Gerald, idiot, stop it!"

"Watch what you say to the Herald, bastard! She's done everything she could to help."

"If you talk about her like that again, I'm going to beat you up. The Herald saved my life!"

Several individuals started to advance on the grieving father, but their threatening glares left no doubt as to their intentions and fearing for the situation degenerating even further into chaos, she spoke again.

"Stop!" she commanded and those who were advancing on the father stopped as commanded, looking torn. "This is exactly what we mustn't allow ourselves to fall into! Infighting and second-guessing our own comrades is what Corypheus wants because he's a leech that can't do anything otherwise! Don't argue between yourselves because of inconsequential things, divided we will fall without doubt," Mihrana warned, sending a pointed look at her inner circle, "but I know that if we unite, we will stand taller than anything he can throw at us! Gerald, I will not lie to you as you deserve the truth. I fear I didn't know your children, but your pain is real. I want to think they died for a cause they believed in, but I promise we will avenge them. Your children and everyone else who died because a madman wanted to play god!" she promised.

Gerald just shook his head as he left, a disconsolate look of pure grief on his face. "It doesn't matter, they're dead now. Nothing matters anymore…"

They all looked at him go, falling into a respectful silence for the man and everyone else who had lost someone dear to them in the attack.

"Many of us have lost loved ones in the attack, I will not pretend otherwise. Commander Cullen Rutherford and Head Ambassador Joshepine Montilyet died bravely trying to defend Haven, killed in the attack by Corypheus himself in front of me. Their deaths and those of everyone else's are a hard blow, but it's one we will recover from. Here and now, I promise you, Corypheus will pay for what he's done. I'm not speaking to you as Herald of Andraste, but as Mihrana Lavellan, a normal person just like all of you. I may be powerful, but I'm only one person. Together, we can defeat Corypheus. Together, we can save Thedas," Mihrana said with conviction before stepping down from the crate she was standing. "Will you help me?"

No one said anything for a moment, but it only took the shout of one person screaming defiance to Corypheus for a roar of agreement to spread like fire among them, a new confidence burning brightly inside them. The attack at Haven would only make them stronger. Mihrana smiled as she walked away, seeking a bit of solitude, but Solas soon approached her

"Herald. A word, please?"

He told her about the orb, of how it was known as a _foci_ , a remnant from an ancient era clouded in shadows, the ancient elvhen empire of Arlathan. He spoke of how Corypheus used it, unlocking it to tear the Fade wide open and expressing his disbelief at him being still alive after such a massive explosion. After all, he didn't have the Anchor to fall onto in order to survive. All very interesting but there would be time to think about it in further detail.

Once he left and finally alone with only the veilfire brazier as a source of arcane warmth, the First of clan Lavellan took a moment to admire for the thousandth time the finely crafted armor she wore, a gift from a wealthy Orlesian noble who believed in their usefulness, even if he only did it for his personal gain in case they were successful. With an amused chuckle, she pulled on the ample, oversized cowl of her elaborate armor, clearly a tailoring mistake but it suited her just fine.

"Too easy. But you, Corypheus… Godhood, huh; you want to play that badly on the next level? Well, you should be careful what you wish for, because sometimes, you get more than you bargained for."

Behind the darkness the cowl provided, her lips curved as intricate patterns of ancient ages glowed briefly on her face. Her face hidden from the world, Mihrana Lavellana smirked.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 **Fen'harel ma halan:** May the Dread Wolf end you.

 **Ir sa Elvhen:** I am one of the People. _Ir_ (I'm/ I am) _sa_ (one) _Elvhen_ (People – ancient elven race)

 **Ar tu na'din:** I will kill you. _Ar_ (I as pers. pronoun) _tu_ (to make, to cause) _na'din_ (a fused word – _na_ corresponds to your or is and _din_ designs someone who has died, someone who _isn't_ ). More or less, literally it would be: I will cause your death/nothingness.

 **Dirthara'ma:** May you learn (as a curse)

 **Seth'lin:** Thin blood.

 **Mala arla dar alas:** Your home is the dirt. Constructed phrase, might be wrong: _Mala_ (your) _arla_ (home) _dar_ (to be as, _is,_ in this case) _alas_ (earth or dirt).

 **Halam sahlin:** This ends now. _Halam_ (the end, finished) _sahlin_ (now, in this moment).

 **Ar tel'suledin ir harelen:** I won't endure more lies. Colloquially, I won't listen to your lies [anymore]. _Ar_ (I as pers. pronoun) _tel_ (not; used to negate the noun/verb that proceeds it) _suledin_ (endure) _ir_ (more) _harel_ (to trick or deceive) _–en_ (plural suffix). I'm working with the assumption that harel can both be verb and noun, so it can be to lie/trick/deceive and also mean liar, always depending on the context and how the phrase is worded.

 **Era'harel:** demon-mage.

 **Tel'taren:** Mindless. _Tel_ (not; used to negate the noun/verb that proceeds it) _Taren_ (mind).

 **Len:** Child.

* * *

 **AN:** This was written for a Facebook DA fan group, was posted several months ago. It was written originally in Spanish, and during the translation I decided to add more into the fic. The entire mountain scene after the avalanche is completely original. For reference, imagine her wearing the Flames of the Inquisition armor.

The speech itself, I'm pretty sure it's shit, but I wanted to do something different that the singing chorus they had going in the game. I don't know what you guys think, but YMMV, I guess. I'll probably come back soon and smooth the rough edges off the final part.

Anyway, that's all I think. If you see a mistake or something let me know. If you liked it, consider leaving a comment, I'd appreciate it. Thank you for reading!


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